by Ann B. Ross
“Because I’ve been driving by to see if Leonard’s car is there. And it’s not,” she said triumphantly, “but Sam’s car is. I told you, Julia, I told you that woman is up to no good.”
Not wanting to give her the satisfaction of being right, I made an effort to appear unruffled. “I’m sorry, LuAnne, but I just can’t get bent out of shape over that. I’m sure there’s a good explanation, and Sam’ll tell me all about it. Just as soon as he gets home.”
“For your sake, Julia, I hope so. Now I’ve got to go.”
And go she did, leaving me feeling as bereft as an orphaned child. Sam had been with Helen all afternoon? Maybe all day? With no time to call, no time for lunch, no thought of me? My heart felt as if a huge hand was squeezing it, and I almost had to sit down.
But at the thought of Helen, whom I’d been defending every time I turned around, I took myself in hand and marched out to the kitchen.
“Lillian, I have to run out for a minute. I won’t be gone long.” I grabbed my car keys and headed out the door.
Lillian stopped pouring beans into a bowl and called after me. “This supper ’bout ready. What I gonna do with it?”
“Dip it up,” I called back. “I’ll be back.”
As I drove the few blocks to Helen’s, I felt myself trembling inside. I knew that checking up on Sam was beneath me, but I had to see for myself. LuAnne could’ve been mistaken, especially since she was in a state herself. Maybe it was somebody else’s car, maybe she just wanted to shake me up, maybe any number of things, but I had to find out for sure.
Lord, I nearly drove into a mailbox. Sam’s car was parked in Helen’s drive, right up against the garage, as big as you please, with no effort made to conceal it. I knew it was his, and not one like it, because there was the Tarheel sticker on the rear bumper.
The next thing I knew I was speeding away, fearful that Helen or Sam would see me. Pulling to the side of the street a few blocks away to gather myself, I wondered why I was the one feeling guilty. I held the wheel with shaking hands, my head bowed and my chest aching with a pain I’d never before felt. There was a good explanation; there had to be.
I kept telling myself that until I was blue in the face. And I almost believed it. Sam would tell me all about it when he came home, then I’d laugh at myself for ever doubting him. For that reason, I would just die if he found out that I had been checking up on him, sneaking around trying to catch him in a compromising position. And with Helen, of all people!
Gradually, I began to calm myself down. Sam had never before given me a moment’s worry, even though he’d been halfway around the world and back without me. He’d always been open and aboveboard even when he was practicing law, which was a marvel in and of itself. He was a faithful husband, I assured myself, and I would not, absolutely would not, turn on him with suspicions and accusations.
So I determined to keep my own counsel unless and until I became convinced that he was doing something he shouldn’t. Then I would be as suspicious as I needed to be. For now, though, I had talked myself into believing that Sam was worthy of trust, and so was Helen. LuAnne had only been trying to make trouble. Misery loves company, you know.
I drove home slowly and carefully, still shaken but determined to bide my time until Sam told me the full story. Jealousy is a terrible emotion, twisting everything you know to be true into half and semi and partial truths. I simply was not going to fall prey to it, regardless of Sam’s car being in another woman’s driveway.
But why hadn’t he returned my calls? Why had he been out of touch all day?
“No,” I said aloud as I pulled into our drive, “I will not ask him. I will not demand answers. I will not let him know that anything’s amiss. But I will give him full opportunity to explain himself.”
Then as I removed the key from the ignition, I smiled, thinking, This is a test. If he voluntarily tells me of his day, leaving nothing out, then that’s one thing. But if he doesn’t, then that’s certainly another. My mouth turned from smiling to a tight line of determination, and I went inside.
Lillian started grumbling as soon as I stepped into the kitchen. “Everybody runnin’ ’round like chickens with they head cut off. I got my supper ready and jus’ look. Nobody here to eat it.”
“Where’re Hazel Marie and Lloyd?”
“They upstairs. I already call ’em, but they slow comin’ down. An’ Mr. Sam not here, an’ you go runnin’ off, an’ I had to put my beans back on the stove to keep ’em warm.”
Just then, Hazel Marie stuck her head in and said, “Sorry, Lillian, but Lloyd only had a closing paragraph to do. We’re at the table now.”
I followed her into the dining room and took my place at the table, patting Lloyd’s head as I passed him. When Hazel Marie seated herself, Sam’s empty place screamed for attention.
“Where’s Mr. Sam?” Lloyd asked.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” I said, complacently, as if his absence was nothing to me. I nodded to Lillian as she brought in dishes and set them on the table. “Will you return thanks, Lloyd?”
We bowed our heads in prayer, but my mind wasn’t on the giving of thanks, but rather on the pleading of a wounded heart.
Then we heard a car door slam and soon after, Sam came through the back door. My heart lifted. At least he wasn’t spending the night at Helen’s.
“Hello, everybody,” he said, looking as normal as he always did, giving no indication that he’d been engaged in any wickedness whatsoever. Some people are like that. They can do the most underhanded things imaginable and still appear as innocent as a newborn. He took his place at the head of the table, giving me a wink as he smiled at us all. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up longer than I expected. How was your day, Lloyd?”
The boy passed Sam the mashed potatoes. “Pretty good, now. One more week of school and I just finished my last paper. At least I hope I have. I was playing tennis this afternoon, and it just hit me that I’d done the bibliography wrong. So I had to go through it again and fix it.”
“That’s what you call an epiphany,” Sam said, nodding in approval. “Glad you had one before you turned in your paper. Hazel Marie, what’s going on with you?”
Hazel Marie was looking a little bewildered, what with all the unfamiliar words being tossed around. But she perked up at Sam’s question. “Oh, this has been a day and a half for us,” she said. “Miss Julia and I have been at Mildred’s most of the day, and they still haven’t found Horace. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard. I didn’t know that somebody could just disappear.”
“Everybody’s talking about it downtown, too,” Sam said. “I had lunch at the Bluebird Cafe, and if it wasn’t Horace they were talking about, it was Assured Estate Planners.” Sam shook his head. “Maybe it’s a good thing Stroud isn’t around. Some people’re mad enough to string him up.”
Hearing the Stroud name, I lifted my head in anticipation of what he might say about Helen. But he made no mention of her, which was suspicious to me, in and of itself. He went right on talking and mostly listening to Hazel Marie, who was telling him about wanting Mildred to hire Mr. Pickens and about Tonya on her way home and about Mildred’s migraine and on and on.
I continued to pick at the food on my plate, more and more anguished at Sam’s seeming inattention to me. He hadn’t asked about my day. He hadn’t directed one word to me. My spirits dropped lower and lower. Ignoring me could be the first sign of his interest in somebody else.
“Julia?” Sam said, and I couldn’t help but look up expectantly, in spite of wanting to appear serene and composed. “I saw a couple of city commissioners at the Bluebird today, and you’ll be happy to know that your idea of using the old courthouse for archives was well received. Tom Tinsley wanted to know if you’d be interested in heading a study committee to come up with a plan to pay for the restoration it needs. That would give them an alternative to the mayor’s push to sell it to developers.” Sam picked up his glass of tea. “I told him you’d be hap
py to do it.”
I blinked, unable to respond. My first thought was that he wanted to keep me busy so I wouldn’t find out what he was doing. Finally, I managed to say that I’d think about it, and the conversation went on without me.
The evening wore down to bedtime with everything seeming as normal as usual. Except my nerves, which were strung so tight that I thought I’d jump out of my skin. Tonya called about nine o’clock, letting us know she was home and there was still no word of her father. Mildred, she said, was inconsolable and had been given a sedative. I passed the phone to Hazel Marie, who talked at length with her about the advantages of hiring J. D. Pickens, P.I.
I left her to it and went into the living room to sit with Sam. Now, I thought, we’re alone and he’ll tell me about Helen.
“Julia,” he said, “this is bad business about Horace. Did you pick up any hint of what might have happened?”
Ah, I thought, he’s ready to talk and is just leading up to Helen.
So I told him some of the possibilities I’d come up with and how Lieutenant Peavey had dismissed them out of hand. “But, Sam, it makes sense. That piece of paper they found in Horace’s car links him to Richard in some way. Or at least, links whoever was driving the car to Richard. And it’s entirely possible that Richard had something to do with Horace’s disappearance. Don’t you think?”
Tell me, I thought, tell me what Helen thinks.
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s a long shot any way you look at it. I’ve not heard of them having any dealings with each other, although,” he stopped and smiled, “the way Mildred treats Horace, I can see how he’d want to do something on his own. Maybe he just took off for Las Vegas or somewhere. Thousands of people disappear every year, you know, and it’s usually because the home situation is intolerable.”
“Well, speaking of that,” I said, hoping that as I confided in him, he would in me. “Have you heard about Leonard Conover and Pastor Ledbetter?”
Sam laughed. “Don’t tell me they’re in cahoots.”
But his eyebrows went up when I told him of Pastor Ledbetter’s potential call to another church, and he was as shocked as I was when I told him of Leonard’s absence from hearth and home.
“Leonard Conover,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief, “who would’ve thought it.”
“That’s not all,” I said, daring to bring up the name. “LuAnne thinks he’s been lured away by Helen.” I watched him carefully to see if he would betray himself.
All he did was laugh again. “Leonard and Helen? That would be one for the books, wouldn’t it? LuAnne must really be distraught to come up with that.” He stood up and yawned. “It’s time for bed, Julia. I’m about wiped out.”
I would think so, I thought, after the day you’ve put in.
As Sam checked the doors and turned off lights, I prepared for bed, trying to overcome the despair I felt. My hands shook and my chest tightened with anxiety, but my will, which had been sorely tested before, was gaining strength. I was now all but convinced that Sam was following the same road that Wesley Lloyd Springer had taken.
We got into bed, and Sam gave me a perfunctory good-night kiss before switching off the lamp. Then he turned over and told me he hoped I slept well. His breathing soon eased into a rhythm that should have lulled me into thinking that he had nothing on his conscience, but I lay there wondering how he could live, much less sleep, with such deception on his mind. I stared into the darkness, shoring up my determination to bide my time, say nothing, do nothing, until I had them both dead to rights. Then they’d see that they’d misjudged Julia Springer Murdoch. I would not be so easily fooled this time.
I turned over in the bed, wrapped the covers over my shoulders and determined anew to play my cards close to my chest, even though I was not a card-playing woman.
As the house settled into the stillness of night and Sam breathed softly beside me, I lay there, staring into the dark. Images of what Sam might have done or might still be doing flashed in my mind, as feelings of pain and betrayal and, yes, flat-out anger blazed through my heart.
Unable to stand it any longer, I flung off the covers and sprang up in bed. “Sam Murdoch,” I yelled, backhanding his shoulder, “what were you doing at Helen’s all day!”
Chapter 13
Sam bolted straight up in the bed. “What? What is it?”
“I said,” I said, “how can you lie there sleeping like a baby, when I know what you’ve been doing? Did you think you could hide it? Don’t you know that everybody in town saw your car? And ran as fast as they could to tell me? And did you think I’d just take it lying down? Well, think again, because I won’t and I’m not.”
Sam reached over and switched on the lamp. “Julia, what in the world are you talking about?”
“Don’t play innocent with me! You know what I’m talking about. I’m talking about Helen and what you were doing holed up with her all afternoon.” I took a deep breath that came out almost as a sob, making me even madder. It did me in that I couldn’t control myself, especially when he put his arm around my shoulders.
“Is that what’s bothering you?” he asked, in the most calming and understanding way, although his eyes were still heavy and unfocused. “You should know me better than that.”
“Well, I don’t,” I said, shrugging off his arm. “And you can unhand me. I don’t need patronizing, and I don’t need a pat on the head. What I need is for you to explain yourself, and I needed it without having to drag it out of you.”
Sam yawned, then rubbed his hands across his face. “It’s a long story. Can it wait till morning?”
Rearing back in disbelief, I threw back the covers and sprang out of bed, my long gown flowing. With my hands on my hips, I glared at him. “Oh, it certainly can wait till morning. In fact, it can wait forever as far as I’m concerned. I’m leaving!”
I turned and headed for the door, then stopped. “What am I doing? This is my house, so you can leave. Get up from there and go back to Helen’s. I expect she’s over there waiting for you, now that Richard’s gone. Very conveniently, too, I might add.”
“Julia, my goodness, honey. What’s gotten into you? Come on back to bed. I’m not interested in Helen, and she’s not interested in me. Now come on over here and keep me warm.”
“I’m not about to. If you think I’m going to put up with another stunt like Wesley Lloyd pulled, you are dead wrong. I’ve had my fill of tom-catting husbands.”
Sam pushed back the covers and swung his feet to the floor. “I know you have, and you don’t have one now.” He walked toward me as I eased backward. “Come tell me what’s wrong.”
“What’s wrong? Everything’s wrong, and you know it.”
“No, I don’t. Now, what’s Helen done to upset you?” He reached my side as I turned and opened the door to the hall.
“You stay away from me, Sam Murdoch. I am not playing around. I’m serious about this. And it’s not Helen who’s done anything, it’s you.”
Sam stood there, his hands spread and his face drawn with concern. “Tell me what I’ve done, and let me put it right.”
I thought I’d cry because he was so good and decent and honest. Still, he should’ve known what he’d done, and he should’ve known how badly I’d been burned once before.
My eyes filled with tears at the unfairness of it, as I stumbled out into the hall with Sam right behind me. I didn’t know where I was going, but on my way I bumped into the Sheraton chair by the door. It fell over with a clatter, probably waking the whole house.
As I stood waiting to see if anybody had heard it, a door opened upstairs and Hazel Marie called out, “What’s going on down there?”
Sam’s arms wrapped around me from behind, and I leaned against him, wanting so badly to regain my trust in him. We stood there for a minute, hoping she’d go back to bed. “It’s all right, Hazel Marie,” I called. “We just knocked over a chair.”
There was a second of silence, then she
gave a little laugh. “Well, I’d keep it in the bedroom if I were you.” Then her door closed.
“Good idea,” Sam whispered. “Come on now. Lloyd’ll be the next one if you keep this up.”
“All right,” I conceded, not wanting the boy to be disturbed. “But this is not over and I’m not changing my mind.”
“I know, but come on.”
I let Sam lead me back to the bedroom, where I meekly crawled into bed. My feet were freezing.
“Now,” he said, getting in beside me and scrooching up close, “listen to me. If it’s Helen you’re concerned about, I am not interested in her or any other woman. I’ve got more than I can handle right here.” He turned my face so I had to look at him, then whispered in the most loving manner, “Don’t you know that?”
I pulled back and pushed him away. “I don’t know anything that I thought I knew. You spent the day with her when she wouldn’t see anybody else. And you’ve been out of touch all day, eating at the Bluebird and volunteering me to the commissioners and visiting Helen. And what’s worse, you told about everything but her when you got home.” I lifted my head and glared at him. “How long were you going to keep me in the dark? Did you think I’d put up with it like I did with Wesley Lloyd? Well, I’ll tell you this, Sam Murdoch, if you want to go after Helen Stroud, then you can just keep going. You can move in with Leonard Conover, for all I care, and chase all the women you want.”
I thought he was going to laugh, but he pulled himself together and said, “My chasing days are over since I’ve caught the only woman I want. But here’s the story: I went to Helen’s because she called and asked me to come over. She wanted some legal advice without going downtown to an attorney where everybody would know about it. She’s very upset and rightly so, since she doesn’t know where Richard is or what he’s done. She called me as a friend who could advise her, hopefully without stirring up more gossip.”
My mouth tightened. “Uh-huh, and don’t you know that’s the oldest ploy in the book? A distressed woman, leaning on an old friend. I would never have thought it of Helen, much less that you would fall for it.”
